The Stage Door
by batmanravenclaw
Summary: Five years after graduating high school, Blaine Anderson doesn't know what to do with his life. He's on Broadway, but only in the smallest sense. His brother's sudden fame eclipses his life, and he lives each day on a strict schedule. He's in a rut, but a chance encounter from his past might change all of that. (M for possible later chapters)


******Hello, everyone! This is my first real undertaking of any sort of writing, and I'm a bit nervous. I know where I'd really like to go with this story and what story I want to tell, so I hope you're all along for the ride! Any reviews would be FANTASTIC and would probably inspire me to write more often. Thanks again for reading, and enjoy! :)**

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**Prologue**

I hate my life. Or at least, I think I do. I'm not so sure anymore. See, it's these moments that are the worst: waking up at an ungodly hour and preparing for the day to come. In these moments, I pretty much hate everything that talks, moves, exists, what have you. I swat at my phone, attempting to quell the screeching of my alarm. "I need to change my alarm tone," I grumble as I do every morning. But I know the thought will escape me as I go about my day. That's the thing about mornings: you can have a perfectly good plan or remember the astounding dream you were having, but in less than an hour it'll be completely gone, and no matter how hard you try to remember, it's not going to happen.

Oh, I suppose I should introduce myself. Hi! My name's Blaine Anderson, and I am a twenty-two year-old graduate of Carnegie-Mellon University currently living in a studio apartment in the heart of Manhattan. I know a studio apartment isn't the most glamorous lifestyle there is, but it really isn't as bad as all those 'New York horror stories' claim. I mean, yes, _finding _an apartment in the city is like living through the Danger Room, but once you settle in, it really grows on you. Sure I miss the space of home, but I'm living my dream right now…in a sense. Yes, I'm on Broadway! No, I'm not a star! Not even in the slightest. I'm in the chorus in a revival of the show _Thoroughly Modern Millie_. I think I have fifteen minutes of stage time? Tops? My brother Cooper once came to the show and approximated it at twelve minutes and thirty-nine seconds, including curtain call. Guess I like to round up.

I'm pretty alone most of the day. I live alone, don't see any of my friends from high school or college, bustle over to a job in which everyone gets ready so fast they don't have time for small talk, work, then go home to my empty apartment. I'm thinking of getting a fish, maybe calling it 'Puppy' or something. That'd be cute, right? Low maintenance, doesn't take up a lot of space; sounds like the perfect roommate!

Anyway, my days are all the same. I wake up around 6:00 in the morning and immediately begin to stretch. If I don't I'll be too sore to dance in the show, and there's really no recovery from that. I then go jogging for about an hour before retuning back home no later than 7:15. I then shower, shave, wash my face, and begin to warm up my body for the rest of the day. If it's a two-show day I go in around 10:00 and begin getting ready, but if not I can spend more time warming myself up and getting any chores I need done. Then, I head to the theatre at 5:30, warm up some more, get in costume, do the show, and arrive back home around 11:00, immediately falling asleep. As you can probably tell, my life's pretty organized, to put it lightly. I didn't used to be like this, but ever since I graduated and moved out on my own, it's pretty much just been me, myself, and I out here. When you spend this much with yourself you begin to find that you have more time than you thought, allowing you to schedule your life moment by moment. It does get a little dull sometimes, but actors have to pay their dues.

This day is no different. I do my normal morning routine, and seeing as it's only one show today, I get to head in a little late. On my taxi over to the theatre, I scroll through my phone, ignoring random news feeds about Cooper and his career. Most people don't know he even has a brother. We're a lot closer now than we used to be, but we're not exactly calling each other every night. Of course if I'm ever that curious about what he's up to I can just turn on some random entertainment news channel and wait a little bit. He's been huge ever since he starred in the Justice League movie, a project I personally made sure I was on set for as long as possible. I haven't told anyone in my cast that one of America's newest stars is my brother. Even if I did I doubt they'd believe me. This being my first Broadway show and playing a minimal role, even for the chorus, has sort of put me on the bottom of the totem poll. From the look of my news app, it would appear Cooper did yet another photoshoot in a speedo, in the loosest definition of the word. Rolling my eyes, I lock my phone just as the taxi pulls to a stop. I pay my driver and get out, hurrying inside, up the couple flights of stairs, and plop into my makeup chair.

I'm flanked by other members of the chorus, but we're always too busy to focus on one another, each one of us doing our respective warm ups. The show goes on fine, I suppose. Most of my time is spent in my makeup chair, catching up on the news or reading. Considering I'm only in three scenes, I could really go home, take a nap, and then come back between numbers and no one would notice. At the end of the show I bow, grinning like an idiot. It's not a fake smile, too. Bowing in front of a crowd on their feet is amazing, regardless of where you stand on that stage. I take my time taking off my makeup and costume. The people outside the stage door want to see the real stars first. If I went out there right now I'd just be met with looks of disappointment and people questioning who I was in the show. I've learned that it's better just to hang back a while and let the crowds filter out. It's best not to get their hopes up.

I sling my backpack over my shoulder and jog down the stairs. The theatre's almost empty now, except for Nick, the old guy who keeps watch at the stage door leading outside. Nick's one of the few guys I talk to, and even then it's just a short smile and a wave. We said 'Goodnight' once, but that's about it. I open the door and begin to walk down the alleyway towards the street to call a taxi, but something stops me dead in my tracks.

"Hell of a show, killer. Care for an encore?"


End file.
